


Message Spelled In Petals

by Corveille, Nolfalvrel, rAnines (clockworkcorvids)



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Awkward Flirting, DBH Rarepairs Week, Fluff, Gen, Language of Flowers, Love Confessions, M/M, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:07:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23407279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corveille/pseuds/Corveille, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nolfalvrel/pseuds/Nolfalvrel, https://archiveofourown.org/users/clockworkcorvids/pseuds/rAnines
Summary: Jerry wants to tell Luther. He wants to.He doesn't.But maybe Alice helps a little bit.
Relationships: Jerry(s) & Alice Williams (Detroit: Become Human), Jerry(s)/Luther (Detroit: Become Human), Kara & Luther & Alice Williams (Detroit: Become Human)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 12
Collections: clockworkcorvids Corveille & Nolfalvrell present: Jerry/Luther





	Message Spelled In Petals

**Author's Note:**

  * For [uai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/uai/gifts).



> HI WE'RE POSTING THIS WITH 1 MINUTE LEFT UNTIL THE DAY ENDS FOR THE PERSON IN THE EARLIEST TIMEZONE AND IT'S ALMOST 2 IN THE MORNING FOR ME OOPS
> 
> join the chaos on the [android whump big bang](https://discord.gg/xd8qVKx) server and thanks in advance for reading this! our little rarepair/tag baby <3

He sees the familiar gradient of colors he’s grown used to through the years. The earthy scent of dew left by a spray reaches him when he opens the door to the flower shop. The bell chimes in a sweet melody as Jerry walks in—

—and is stopped as soon as he crosses the threshold by small arms wrapping around his legs.

“Hey Alice,” Jerry says as he kneels down to hug the little girl back. A short squeal leaves her lips when Jerry picks her up and spins her around, before letting her down on the ground again. 

“How’s it going?”

Alice, sweet little thing that she is, gives a bright smile and lets go. Her hand fumbles with the straps of her backpack as she tries to get it off.

“Good morning Jerry! Everything’s good!” She zips the bag open and searches it for a few moments, eventually pulling out a piece of paper. It’s slightly crumpled around the edges, and ripped in a few places, but looks for all the world as if she’s been trying to take the best possible care of it—Jerry doesn’t need the context he already has to know that it means a lot to her. 

“I’ve been practicing tattoos since last time you were here, look!”

She proudly hands Jerry a pretty, if rather simplistic, drawing of a bouquet of tulips. All the flowers are sporting almost garishly bright colors and a wide array of different sizes. Jerry sees right away she did this from reference, there’s no way a kid her age could draw so well otherwise, and probably with an arrangement that was well past its days of beauty to sell well.

A few tulips don’t look as strong in the picture as the others. Some lines become messy around the petals, blending in between each flower, giving it an unique touch. It’s almost already a unique style, and Jerry briefly entertains the thought of teaching the kid the ropes of tattoo art when she’s old enough, or just art in general _now_. He thinks she’d have a knack for it. Jerry looks back at Alice, sees the excitement in her eyes, and grins widely, giving a high whistle.

“This is pretty good!” He says. “You could give me a run for my money. Maybe in a few years, I could have you working with me in the parlor.”

“Really?”

“Sure—.”

A loud _ahem_ comes from behind Jerry, and he flinches before looking back.

“ _That is_ ,” he quickly amends, “with your mother’s permission, o-of course.”

Jerry scratches the back of his neck as he watches Kara cross her arms and tap her foot against the floor. The angry expression she has quickly morphs into a smile when Jerry and Alice both look at her.

“Can I Kara? _Pleeeeeeeeease?_ ” Alice runs up to grab the white apron Kara is wearing and pleads with such an adorable pleading gaze, Jerry’s not sure how Kara can keep such a strong composure. He knows he would immediately crumble under those puppy eyes.

“I’ll think about it. For now, could you bring me the sprinklers?” Alice’s expression doesn’t seem to lose her spark, although her eyes turn a little sad when she looks back at Jerry.

“Bye, Jerry!” 

She waves and quickly runs behind the counters, not giving enough time for Jerry to even mutter a goodbye.

He turns to Kara and hands her the drawing, his smile almost contagious. Even if he wanted to hide it, he doesn’t think he’d be able to. “Honestly, I wonder how you can say no to her sometimes.” 

Kara just chuckles as she carefully tucks the small paper in a cabinet under the counter.

“Maternal instincts are a force to be reckoned with,” she says with a wink, grabbing the broom next to a nearby chair.

Jerry, unsure what else to say on that topic, purses his lips in thought as he wracks his brain for any other possible lines of conversation he might have had saved. _Oh!_ His gaze sweeps the area, looking for the third member of the family, but Jerry finds no sight of him. 

“Where’s Luther?” he asks.

“In the back, he’s trying to set up the last detail for a wedding set.” Kara says without taking her eyes from the floor she’s sweeping. She pauses for a moment, and eyes the sketchbook peeking out from Jerry’s bag. “So, what is it today?”

“A client asked for forget-me-nots and lilies for a tattoo.”

“You better go see them before customers swim in then.” Kara let’s go of the broom and goes behind the counter, when a couple comes in through the door. “Remember, aisle—”

“Aisle four, yeah,” he finishes for her, dismissively waving his hand as he leaves her to her work. And even though he heads the other way, he can’t stop his eyes from wandering to the back of the shop.

Of course, no one comes out of there, though Jerry’s heart skips a beat when he meets eyes with Kara. It’s the same feeling he’d get as a kid when he was caught sneaking chocolates from the back of the freezer without first asking his mother.  
  
She raises an eyebrow at him and Jerry realizes he’s been staring for too long; he ducks behind the nearest shelf and pulls his scarf up to hide his colored cheeks.

He’s embarrassed, but not so much that he feels the need to rush away this time. In fact, he lingers over the flora with a deliberate slowness. Each of the flowers are arranged in separate wicker bins throughout six aisles, the kind of kitschy, homey aesthetic so very becoming of the store. Early morning means full baskets, and the scent is a suffuse of blossoms over an intense perfume. He reaches for one of his blue-petalled prey, lifting a stem and considering it. Then slowly adds another to it, listening.

“Do you want me to start with these, mom?”

“No, Alice, wait!”

Jerry snorts to himself. Checking that Kara has been suitably distracted by Alice’s return and her subsequent washing of African-style rain over most of the stock, Jerry subtly edges down aisle three, towards the back room. He’s a man on a mission. The door to the back room is covered by a gauzy curtain usually, but today it’s been pulled lazily to one side, allowing a slight gap. He’s not looking to do something insidious to the store, far from it—he’d just like to be satisfied with at least a peek. 

Although, admittedly, today he’s trying for a lot more than usual.

He reaches idly for another flower, something vaguely white but definitely not the lily he’d been after. He’s too caught up with trying to crane his neck without appearing as though he is, in case Kara does manage to calm Alice down enough to investigate how he’s doing and continue the chit-chat. He’s only got so much courage for today after all, and if he’s teased, his brain might finally talk his heart away from the controls. 

After adding a few more miscellaneous buds to his other fist, Jerry pulls out his phone, deciding it is a suitably innocent time-waster. He scrolls through his client schedule.

Another quick flick to the backroom. Nothing. 

Snapping a couple pictures of a bursting tropical arrangement on an endcap, Jerry risks another glance again. Still nothing.

Though he would probably deny it to anyone, Jerry pouts. He turns back to his phone with frustration. Likes a few artists' images without actually paying the art itself any mind. Drags down the screen for the time. Sighs. “Where the heck is—”

“Hey, Jerry.”

There are a lot of ways to describe the manner in which Jerry reacts, such as a failed circus act, or a cat being introduced to water, but it would best be equated to a Wile E. Coyote-over-a-bottomless-cliff impression, as Jerry leaps and fumbles and squeaks. He catches his mobile after a haphazard series of air theatrics, and gives a too loud reply.

“Luther! You are one _scaaaaaaary_ dude, you!” Jerry’s face is pulled into a wide smile, reminiscent of the days he’d been forced to work at that one horrible amusement park to pay his way through college. Some habits never really die, they just sort of adapt to new environments and sometimes make for cool party tricks. Luther, standing still, arms filled with cream and pink blooms tied up in silver ribbons, tilts his head slightly. At this point, Jerry catches up with himself, and he arranges himself quickly. “I—I mean, just—just that you scared me, hahaha, but whatever—are those flowers yours? I mean, are those flowers for your wedding—dammit—I mean, _a_ wedding?”

“Yes, it’s for the Murdaghans,” Luther is immediately distracted by the topic. He holds the enormous arrangement out, encouraging Jerry to look closer.

“They’re getting hitched tomorrow, and they’ve had a nightmare dealing with other stores doing the arrangement with the right ‘aesthetic’ combination. I just sent them an image of this one and they’re thrilled.” Luther beams, swelling with pride. “It’s the cockscomb. It adds texture with its colour, keeps it from disappearing as just another flower.”

“I see,” Jerry replies, not looking at the flowers, smiling. He won’t pretend to know much about the language of flowers; it’s more confusing than even Mandarin for him, but he has better things to focus on anyways. Luther’s decked out in his grandpa’s best—gorgeous deep skin wrapped in a thick pistachio sweater. Fisherman style. An item of clothing found buried in second hand shops, one that Luther makes look vintage instead of simply just used. He owns a variety in muted golds, and greens and greys engulfed in a blue hue.

Engulfed.

Something that Luther, with his immense size, could do rather easily to anyone.

“What brings you to the shop this morning? New client?” Luther brings Jerry back from his mental tangent with ease. He shifts the silver basin he’s supporting, turning to scrutinize his hand more seriously. “That certainly makes a tragic piece of ink.”

“Hmm?” Jerry looks to his own arrangement, finally noticing the pairing of orchids and carnations. He jolts and backtracks quickly. 

“Oh no! These, these are more personal. My client was hoping for something with lilies and forget-me-nots.”

“A personal project?” He frowns deeply, likely still stuck on the negative connotations of Jerry’s meager combination, Jerry realizes. “Let me put this down.” He begins walking, and Jerry is quick to follow him. Quick to correct himself.

“Yeah! I was—well I was actually—actually thinking of making something about how i view love.”

Relief spreads through Luther’s face, and this time Luther’s smile allows the white of teeth to slip out along with a chuckle. “Do you have skin left for another tattoo?” 

“Well there’s always my forehead. Gotta use that free real estate!”

“You’re not serious.”

“Nah,” Jerry nods in agreement, “But, if I ever say I am, know I’ve totally gone full body-snatcher. In that situation, you have my full permission to tackle me.” He scrambles to help Luther lower the set onto the shop counter so he doesn’t feel as useless, trying not to think about what it would feel like for the other man to tackle him. The soft sweaters don’t exactly hide the fact that Luther works out, and he’s built like a damn tank anyways. He could probably wrap one arm all the way around the widest point of Jerry’s ribcage and still have extra space. Even if Jerry’s help is largely ineffective, given that Luther was barely struggling, and Jerry is basically a twig next to him, he looks somewhat relieved now that he’s free of the burden. As the tall man straightens, Jerry notices suddenly that the counter is conspicuously absent of the shop’s partner and enthusiastic child.

The store itself as well.

Jerry squints, but is easily distracted by Luther rolling his hand in a _’y’know’_ gesture. “Well if you’re really wanting signifying love in relation to yourself, you should probably look at putting together a selection that speaks more to your personality instead of just simply adding flowers that have the love association. I know colour is not too important, considering,” Luther indicates Jerry’s covered arms, one hand just barely betraying the whirls of black ink mapping his skin, “But if you look at flowers that go with your personality, it’ll probably be more identifiable, and get less confused with the, uh, death and afterlife and stuff.”

“That’s…a great point, actually.” 

Jerry pauses, finger raised, thoughts turning rapidly as Luther gives him full attention, and he’s once again confronted with the fact that they are entirely alone. And that that fact makes this a prime opportunity. So his heart gets the drum beat ready, and he nearly shouts in a desperate want to drown it out, a blurted statement rather than the question he’d been intending, _“Could you help me with that!”_

Luther jumps, and his eyes dart around as though to check such a loud sound could come from such a small person. “Uh yeah, sure, I mean I’m done this now, so I can. If you’d like to do it now, that is?”

“Yes. Yes, I would.” Jerry winces, mouthing _’calm down’_ to himself when Luther turns away to grab a basket. 

They wander through the different sections, Luther completely caught up in the task, and Jerry completely caught up in Luther. 

“Garden roses are large and easily recognizable as a love symbol, but a rose might be too boring for someone like you.”

“Oh? Well I bypassed roses cause I was thinking they were too cliche—”

“Exactly, and you’re not.” 

Jerry can’t stop smiling the entire time he trails Luther. “So you’re saying you know what flower I am then?”

Luther shakes his head, “No, I know what flower _everyone_ is.” 

Confidence. Luther’s a big guy, but he’s never prone to bragging. It’s becoming on him, with how he smirks at Jerry as though he’s revealed some hidden superpower. “Alright then, show me my floral soulmate.”

“Challenge accepted,” Luther’s hands come to fix Jerry in place, grasping him firmly by the shoulders. “Wait here.”

A minute later, when Luther returns, finds Jerry in the exact same position with the exact same red expression. The flower-keeper laughs. “I didn’t mean ‘don’t move at all’.”

“I know, I just didn’t want you to not be able to find me,” Jerry excuses lamely, still reeling over the ghost of broad fingers over his collar. “W-What did you find?” The basket is pushed into Jerry’s hands, and he looks down as Luther begins to bring out the different flowers.

“Well first is definitely yellow tulips. I know, colour has a totally different meaning for you as a tattoo artist, but it’ll be nice to look at while you’re studying them,” Luther grins. “When they’re yellow specifically, they mean cheerful thoughts and sunshine.”

“I guess that is kind of… _me_ ,” Jerry admits.

“I mean, yeah, I think I’d be confused if you ever stopped beaming at me like a personal little sun,” Luther laughs.

“But you don’t think I’m just cheerful, I assume, judging by all these other flowers,” Jerry quickly tries to deflect, knowing that if he gets any redder his brain will either cook or Luther will be suspicious, and although he’d prefer the former, the latter is more likely. 

“I mean, they’re the best ones, but there is also,” Luther pulls another yellow bloom free, this one strands of green topped by circular, fizzing pops of colour, “If I did have to go with another one, I’d go with the acacia.”

“Let me guess-- this one means I enjoy cotton candy,” Jerry teases.

“Close, courage and elegance actually.” 

Jerry can’t help but snort.

“Courage is not a word I’d use on myself, and I’m as elegant as a new-born baby deer.” 

“Perhaps, I still remember how I had to fix that shelf,” Luther says with a smile that only grows wider when Jerry slaps at his shoulder.

“Way to kick a man when he’s down.”

Luther mulls over his next words, “But also, they're a reinforcement of…friendship.”

There’s a plummet that happens inside Jerry, a feeling that nearly folds his knees out from under him. The hands on his shoulders come back, but instead of a tickling warmth the sensation is heavy and cold, like Luther’s just set an enormous iron weight upon him. The smile that Luther has makes Jerry swallow those feelings down. 

_Tell him_ , he thinks to himself, _just do it._

“Smooth, way to ask if we’re friends Luther. Of course we are, you big lug.”

Luther pauses, having been arranging the flowers into a neat mock-bouquet. 

“I’m glad we are on the same page.”   
  
_  
Do it now. _

“Luther there’s something—” but the words die in Jerry's throat the moment Luther faces him. And he realizes, he can’t do it.   
  
  
He just can’t.

_Giving him a flower that means courage, when he’s just a coward._

“Hmm?” Luther hums, prompting Jerry to continue.

“Just—just have to tell you, you’ve officially convinced me. Yellow is my colour, you win big guy. So,” Jerry hesitates as he raises his hand into a fist, then commits with an entirely too plastic grin as he bumps Luther’s shoulder good-naturedly, “Good on you! You get to keep your flower shop!”

“I’m sure Kara will be glad to know that.” Luther says with a chuckle and picks up the arrangement.

“Anything else before I go?” Jerry says, trying to hide his eagerness to get out of this place.

“Well, there’s another flower. It’s the gardenia--”

“Yeah?” He says as he looks at the white flowers set neatly in the bouquet. “Kind of looks like a rose, don’t you think?” Jerry says, smile tight. “I mean I wouldn’t want people confusing that with one and thinking I’m just some edgy, has-been tattoo artist. Let’s cash out!”

Their next few minutes pass in relative silence, Jerry rocking back and forth on his toes as Luther puts through the order and wraps the flowers gently in plastic. When he hands Jerry the receipt and flowers, the artist notices the distinct white buds peeking through the wrap. 

“Uh Luther there’s--”

“I threw in the gardenias, no charge, just in case you wanted to look at them. If you just use the petals themselves, people might not confuse them for roses.”

Unable to argue with how such a sweet gesture only tightens the noose around his lungs, Jerry nods. “Oh, yeah, sure, thank you.”

“A-and maybe,” Luther adds with a stutter, rubbing the back of his neck. “If you ever want to know what it means you can always look it up. Gardenias. The spelling of it is on the receipt.”

“Of course! Thanks again.”

As Jerry walks to the door, he sees Kara looking at him again with a thoughtful expression. She takes one look at Jerry’s fallen look, then at Luther, who has already gone back to setting new arrangements by the counter, and mutters.

“You are both helpless.”

“Wh-what do you mean?” Jerry tries to keep his voice low. When Kara just gives him a deadpanned look, he rushes to open the door but a tug on his clothes.

He looks down only to find Alice, looking at him with a small smile and holding yet, another piece of paper, much smaller than the one from before.

“I know you don’t like roses,” she says and gives Jerry the paper. Jerry just stares, dumbfounded, at the drawing of a single red rose looking back at him. “But maybe try to give Luther this next time!”  
  
She’s back to running around the shop before Jerry can ask her what this means. Where does this little girl store so much energy?

“Don’t worry,” Kara says, fighting a smile as she sees Jerry’s confused look. 

"He'll understand."


End file.
